They say you're never too old to catch air.

I've been skiing since I was 3. I can survive, even enjoy myself, in almost any situation: trees, bumps, steeps, powder, crud, ice.

But ask me to jump off something taller than, say, a fire hydrant and I'm an airborne cautionary tale - in the back seat, rolling down the windows, double-releasing on the landing, leaving skis, poles, gloves, helmet, lip balm, and common sense above me on the slope as I tumble to my own humiliating angle of repose.

Last year my friend Dr. Kim, who may be even less inclined to catch air than I am, marked her 40th birthday by attending Alison Gannett's Rippin' Chix steeps camp in Crested Butte. She came back gushing about the big air she caught.

Apparently, there are techniques for catching air - five of them, according to Alison's system. There's "flag air" and there's "pedal pole air" and "airplane air" and "straight air," which isn't to be confused with "straight pole air."

Techniques? I thought you just skied straight off and gathered your belongings at the bottom.

Well, Alison says that not only are there different ways to catch air, but there is also a wide variety of techniques for skiing the steeps, things like using "C turns" rather than "S turns," pulling your pinky toward your elbow and always, always avoiding the "Velcro butt" poling position.

I like the steeps. When I'm feeling especially braggadocious, I like to say that steep, tight slopes are my canvas. So I imagine I've been doing some of these things all along to get myself down the hill in one piece without realizing it.

But Dr. Kim's experience last year struck me as something of a challenge. I'm competitive and often don't like to admit that there's more for me to learn on the ski slopes. Could I be wrong?

Judging from the fact that I have no idea what pedal pole air could possibly mean, there's a distinct possibility that I don't know everything there is to know about skiing.

So this President's Day weekend, to celebrate my own 40th birthday, I'm going to my first-ever steeps camp, an all-girl air-catching extravaganza. Alison promises "champion instructors" such as Wendy Fisher and Carrie Jo Chernoff, free demos, "bitchin' goodie bags" and "instruction that will change your skiing and your life."

I tend to scoff at anything that threatens to change my life, because I've always believed that the only person who can change my life is me. But when I was younger and had little confidence either physically or personally, skiing did, in fact, change my life. I moved to Taos out of college as an avid but nervous and ungainly skier; I left there two years later able to ski almost anything.

My uncle, Richard, who's a sculptor, likes to say "mastery" is among the great triumphs we strive for in life. Being good at a task, and caring enough to be good at it, adds something essential to your sense of self. It doesn't matter what it is; it may be creating art, like my uncle does, or writing or raising kids or speaking Spanish. It only matters that you care enough to excel at that task.

And the self-assurance I gained from being a good skier - not the best, mind you, just good enough - radiated into every aspect of my life. I was good at something! And I bet I could be good at something else if I set my mind to it.

Which brings me back to catching air. I'm not good at it. I have no idea how to be good at it. But maybe, with a few tips from some lady champions, I can get a little better at it next weekend.

And remember, I'm very competitive. If Dr. Kim can learn to drop mini-cliffs at 40, I couldn't live with myself unless I learned to do the same.